


o christmas tree

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Morning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They're in Detroit, sharing Phichit's roommate's vacant bed, and they don't have a tree. It's not how Yuuri envisioned his first Christmas with Viktor.





	o christmas tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seventhstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/gifts).



> for my dearest partner~ i hope next year we will be able to have a christmas together. <3 
> 
> sorry for my characterization, i have never written them before...!!! hopefully it is okay. it's cliché and cheesy, because i'm cliché and cheesy.

Visiting Detroit during the holiday season wasn’t necessarily the most _romantic_ way to spend it, but Yuuri had promised to visit Phichit and this was the only break he and Viktor had that coincided with Phichit’s, so there they were, Christmas Eve, in Michigan.

Midwesterners often complained of the “frozen hellscape,” but it was fairly normal weather for Yuuri, and was a literal walk in the park for Viktor, who was walking alongside Yuuri with one hand casually in his pocket and the other holding Makkachin’s leash. They walked along in comfortable quiet, broken only by Viktor pointing at one of the few remaining trees on the tree farm.

“That one?”

Yuuri frowns at it. “Too big,” he decides, since Phichit’s apartment has only so much space for a tree, and he’s not sure they would even be able to drag it back between the two of them. Viktor might make him do most of the work. Builds character or something.

They had both been surprised that Phichit hadn’t bothered doing any decorating for the holidays—no lights, no tree, no _anything_ —and Viktor had taken it upon himself to acquire at least some last-minute decorations from the nearby pharmacy before marveling at length that such a place sold more bizarre knickknacks than actual medicine. (“Look at this reindeer candle holder!” he’d gushed, and Yuuri indulged him because it was hard to be annoyed with someone who got as genuinely excited over novelty trinkets as Viktor Nikiforov.)

But there aren’t many small trees left that don’t look like the scrawny sapling from that _Charlie Brown_ movie, and Yuuri is getting tired of traipsing around in the snow, and it is getting dark regardless.

“We can do without a tree,” he tells Viktor, whose face falls for the tiniest of seconds before he smiles and nods.

“We’ll get rested up, then,” he says cheerfully, “because tomorrow is your only day off before practice, practice, practice!”

Makkachin barks in agreement and Yuuri sighs. But when Viktor leans down to dote on Makkachin, Yuuri's face fills with warmth and he smiles.

* * *

 

Phichit’s roommate has gone home for the holidays, so Yuuri and Viktor share the unoccupied bedroom. It’s strange sleeping on someone else’s bed, under someone else’s blankets, surrounded by Detroit Red Wings posters and someone else’s award certificates, he finds it hard to sleep.

“Here.” Viktor hands him a steaming mug before climbing over him onto the bed and clambering under the sheets. He has no qualms about sleeping in an unfamiliar person’s space, it seems. “Some night-night tea.”

Yuuri mouths the words _night-night tea_ but holds the mug up to his face. The steam fogs up his glasses and he stifles another sigh. He doesn’t need to sip it to know it’s probably two degrees short of boiling so he sets it down and inwardly prays he doesn’t fall asleep before it’s cool enough to drink.

“Viktor,” he says, settling back on the too-flat pillow, “sorry that I waited too long for us to get a tree.”

Viktor glances over at him and smiles—not one of his goofy grins or sensual smirks, but a soft, reassuring smile—and rolls over so he can place his hand on Yuuri’s arm. “We didn’t need a tree, you know.”

Except, Yuuri thinks, he _wanted_ one—both of them did—so it wasn’t really totally all right, since they were missing out on one of the biggest symbols of the holiday season and Christmas day was in a few hours and suddenly the matching hat and scarf set he and Yuuko had attempted to knit for a present for Viktor and Makkachin seemed wholly inadequate and—

He makes a tiny gasping sound when Viktor places his hand on Yuuri’s face and the cold metal of the ring touches Yuuri’s skin. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing!” Yuuri says, too fast and too high-pitched to be even remotely believable.

Viktor raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri stares intently at the corner of Viktor’s pillow and takes a deep breath. “Christmas Eve is supposed to be a romantic time and I’m… not.”

The silence that stretches might have lasted ten seconds or ten years, but finally Viktor lets out some kind of giggle-snort and rubs his thumb against Yuri’s cheek. “Yuuri,” he says, mouth twisted in amusement, “you skated an entire dance routine in front of the whole world that was dedicated to your feelings for me. I think that kind of qualifies as romantic.”

It’s a good thing it’s dim in the room because Yuuri’s face is probably crimson.

The amusement on Viktor’s face fades to a gentle smile. Yuuri lifts his own hand from under the sheets and places it over Viktor’s.

“Just being here, with you, is enough of a gift for me,” Viktor whispers, and kisses Yuuri’s nose.

* * *

 

Pale winter sunbeams shine through the window as Viktor slowly wakes. Next to him, the flat pillow Yuuri slept on is vacant. His attempt to say Yuuri’s name is interrupted by a wide yawn so he abandons the attempt and stretches before climbing out of bed and fumbling around on the floor for his slippers. The teacup he brought Yuuri the night before is still sitting on the bedside table, but it’s empty. He smiles sleepily and picks it up to take to the kitchen.

Makkachin is sleeping right outside the door and wakes when Viktor bends to pet him.

“Good morning!” Viktor says, rubbing Makkachin’s ears. “Sorry you had to sleep out here, I think it would have been bad manners for all of us to sleep in a stranger’s bed.”

Makkachin barks in response and follows Viktor into the sitting room, tail wagging.

“Yuuri, are you aw—”

He freezes, Makkachin tilts his head, and Phichit, already awake and sitting on the couch in his jammies, is overcome with giggles.

Yuuri stands in the corner of the room amidst a small pile of wrapped gifts, dressed entirely in green, with ornaments hanging from his clothes and Christmas lights wrapped around his body. He holds his arms out when he sees Viktor and stammers a bunch of incomprehensible consonants, face redder than the stockings hanging on the wall above the hot water heater (which, admittedly, is not as romantic as a fireplace).

Phichit calms his giggles enough to answer Viktor’s bewildered expression. “Yuuri felt bad about the lack of tree and decided to” –he snorts with laughter again and ignores Yuuri’s frantic _Phichit!_ —“ _be_ the tree.”

Viktor laughs; it’s a full-bodied, loud laugh, and he bends over for support and there are tears coming from his eyes and he’s still holding the empty tea mug when he clears the small space to where Yuuri is standing with his tinsel-covered arms awkwardly outstretched and pulls him into a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas, Yuuri,” he says with his eyes still leaking. “You’re too precious for this earth.”

“Uh,” Yuuri replies, because how else is he supposed to reply to that, “Merry Christmas, Vitya.”

They embrace for a while (Phichit non-discreetly Instagrams the entire thing) before Yuuri clears his throat. “Um, Viktor, these lights are pretty hot…”

* * *

 

Later that morning, Phichit stands at the entrance to the apartment courtyard as Yuuri, Viktor, and Makkachin play in the snow. Viktor and Makkachin are wearing a matching set of badly-knitted hats and scarves, but Viktor had been so excited about them that he was now talking about wearing the set to the next tournament.

“So he likes them?” Yuuko sounds too excited about the possibility that Viktor Nikiforov likes something of hers.

"Is that Viktor?" a voice yells.

“No, sit down!" Yuuko clears her throat and resumes the conversation with Phichit. "I’m so glad, see, I’m new to the whole—Lutz, _put that down right now!_ Sorry Phichit, the girls are—Loop, this is _not_ yours—”

“I wanna talk to Viktor!”

“Me first!”

“Finish your breakfast!” Yuuko huffs. “Sorry Phichit, I’ll call back later when the girls are— _don’t you dare put that on YouTube!"_  The call ends abruptly. Across the courtyard, Yuuri hits Viktor in the face with a snowball and immediately rushes to apologize. Viktor shoves a handful of snow down the back of Yuuri’s coat, and Yuuri screams.

Phichit smiles.


End file.
